Moonlight In Vermont. Kacy Cross

summer before that,” Fiona finished with an indulgent eye roll. He’d had a run of bad luck with his dotcom business in New York. She couldn’t blame him for taking time to clear his head.

      She’d come to Vermont for the same reason, after all.

      “I know. But you know what? I won’t knock it. Helping Dad keep this place running is a better workout that I ever got in any gym. Although I do miss being in the center of things.”

      Of course he did. What sane person would pick Vermont over New York on a permanent basis? Only one with a strong sense of family, which he had in spades. “I’m sure your tech-wizard side will rise again.”

      “I hope you’re right,” Brandon admitted, which told Fiona he wasn’t as happy here as he pretended. “You guys go on inside and I’ll grab your bags.”

      Fiona nodded and climbed the stairs to the wide wrap-around porch. Trailing her, Ang leaned in and murmured, “He’s working out now?”

      They barely made it across the threshold before a blonde dynamo nearly bowled them over. “Fiona!”

      Her stepmother, Delia, swept her up in a hug. The last year of being apart vanished and Fiona settled into her stepmother’s embrace with ease as if they’d just seen each other yesterday. Delia had that way about her. No one stayed a stranger, friends only got closer and family—that was forever. Fiona didn’t even mind the slight gleam of concern in Delia’s eyes that meant she would definitely be circling back to the breakup with Nate soon. Very soon.

      Maybe telling Delia about it would be the final step Fiona needed to let it go. If nothing else happened on this trip than that, it would be time well spent.

      Turning her attention to Ang, Delia hugged her as well, murmuring hellos and welcomes with a broad smile.

      “Oh, my gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” Delia exclaimed.

      “I know,” Fiona cut in quickly. “It’s only been since last summer, though.”

      That excuse didn’t assuage her guilt. Delia loved her and wanted to spend time with her. It was that simple, and Delia didn’t understand why Fiona couldn’t put aside the difficulties with her father. No one did. Fiona included. Her father refused to talk about his reasons for selling the apartment that Fiona had loved, and therefore, Fiona refused to forgive him.

      “When you run an inn, that’s two hundred bookings ago, so for me, it feels like forever,” Delia said with a smile. “I’m just so glad you’re home.”

      Ugh. Fiona’s insides curled up at the term. “Do we have to call it home?”

      This was not her home. The apartment overlooking the park where she’d lived with her mother and father—that got the label “home,” and nothing Delia or her father could do or say would change that. If only one of them understood how lost and adrift she’d felt after learning it had been sold…

      But she couldn’t dwell on that or she’d cave in to the emotions that she’d rather die than admit to.

      “Yes. You and your father are going to leave this little tiff behind you on this trip,” Delia informed her in that no-nonsense voice that brooked no arguments. “Okay?”

      “Okay,” Fiona agreed, mostly because she knew it was what Delia wanted to hear. And also because it wasn’t really a question. It was a strongly encouraged suggestion, and Fiona hated causing Delia strife in the first place. She wanted it to be true, too, so she’d fake it until it was, if for no other reason than to make Delia happy.

      A familiar voice rang out from the hall behind them. “Towels are out of the dryer and need to be folded before the new check-ins arrive.”

      Fiona’s father came into view carrying a laundry basket. A laundry basket.

      “Some of the new check-ins are already here,” Fiona informed her father with a laugh designed to cover that she was really glad to see him, difficulties aside.

      Harris immediately dropped his basket and pulled Fiona into a hug before she could protest, and then all she could do was hang on. Her father loved her. He didn’t have to say it all the time for it to be true. She could feel it in his embrace. That was enough for now.

      She could put aside her feelings. No problem. Just like she’d been doing for years.

      “Welcome home,” he said enthusiastically, then caught Delia’s chopping motion at her neck and amended quickly to, “Welcome here. So… How’s life in the Big Apple?”

      “Great. This might refresh your memory.” Thrilled at the chance to segue off difficult subjects, Fiona rifled through her bag and pulled out Delia’s gift wrapped in crackly gold paper tied with curly-q ribbons. “Brought you a bottle of your favorite perfume from 5th Avenue.”

      “You didn’t have to do that,” Delia protested but the delight in her eyes told a different story. “Thank you.”

      “Oh, it’s nothing.” Delia had filled so many gaps in Fiona’s life that the gift couldn’t begin to hold all of her gratitude.

      Ang handed Harris a bag. “Oh, and here are some real bagels from Zabar’s.”

      That was the real hit. Harris’s eyes rounded and he took the bag so carefully, Fiona double-checked to be sure Ang hadn’t handed him a live baby.

      “Oh, man! Thank you both.” Something beyond Angela’s shoulder caught Harris’s attention and he jerked his chin in that direction, bagels all but forgotten. “There he is. Fiona, this is Derek. He studied in Paris. He’s a culinary genius. The inn’s pride and joy.”

      The world clicked into slow motion as the Mushroom Man from outside strode through the dining area off the reception hall. Of course. She muttered to Angela, “Oh, the wise-guy groundskeeper?”

      Genius, huh? That remained to be seen. At least that answered her What menu? question.

      Brandon joined the party, throwing in his own two cents on the matter. “He’s our new head chef and fingers crossed, soon to be the first Michelin star chef in Vermont.”

      Derek sauntered over, smirk firmly in place across his chiseled jaw. “Oh, I believe we’ve met before. And mushroom soup is still off the menu.”

      “The guy’s very particular about his mushrooms,” Fiona said to her father with an eye roll that she couldn’t quite help.

      “Yeah,” Harris returned with a quizzical expression as if Fiona had told a joke with a punchline he didn’t quite get. “And a true artist who needs to focus.”

      Derek nodded once and carried off a basket of rolls. Wow, was he ever anti-social.

      “I’ve persuaded some of the top restaurant bloggers in New England to come later this week, so he needs to be in prime form.” Harris waggled his hand. “Bookings have been down a little bit and we could use the press.”

      Oh no. Now Fiona felt terrible for giving Derek a hard time about the mushrooms. Clearly her father and Delia were depending on this new head chef to help pick up their business. Well, Derek could have been a little less confrontational about how she’d accidentally messed up his precious menu.

      Harris continued. “Tomorrow we have more guests arriving and thanks to Brandon, we’ve updated our website. We’ve started to market to the hip millennial crowd.”

      Delia nodded enthusiastically but Fiona had to laugh. “Hip millennial crowd? That just does not sound right coming out of your mouth, Dad.”

      “Which reminds me…” Brandon trailed off as he held up his phone and wandered off to go do some mysterious inn task. Harris followed him, clearly on a similar mission, leaving Delia beaming at Fiona and Ang.

      “Let’s get you settled!” she said and tucked Fiona’s hand in her capable one. “You can relax and enjoy yourself. And then later on, you can tell me all about your breakup